


If You Say So

by brittanydbrock



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittanydbrock/pseuds/brittanydbrock
Summary: "I can't believe it's true, I keep looking for you. I check my phone and wait to hear from you in the crowded room. The joker is so cruel. And now I'll never know if all I've been told is just a lie." Rachel's life was spinning out of control and then suddenly, one phone call changed everything. AU 3x14





	1. Chapter 1

“We have to _wait for Quinn!”_ Rachel screeches in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose as she checks her phone for the millionth time. Today is supposed to be the most important day of her life—more than graduating from High school, moving to New York, landing her first role on Broadway, hell, even landing her first starring role on Broadway. Today is supposed to be the day that she has dreamed about ever since she was a little girl—the day that she puts on the white taffeta, dances around like a princess, and everyone tells her how beautiful she is and how proud they are to see her happy. 

But now that it’s here, it’s nothing like that. The adults in her life are disapproving, Finn is rushing her, and God, where in the hell is Quinn? Quinn Fabray is the one person that Rachel thought would be here, especially after the relationship the two of them have shared. It started over Rachel’s desire to be the with the star quarterback, Finn Hudson, and somewhere along the way, the jealous driven competition turned into something far more beautiful than Rachel Berry will ever truly realize. Somewhere along the harsh name calling and the obsessive stalking, to kind compliments and shared gazes. Somewhere along the lines of drawing pornographic pictures of her on the girl’s bathroom wall, Quinn began to text Rachel in the middle of the night just because. Somewhere in between choosing the gardenias and the green ribbon to match her eyes, Rachel began to care for Quinn. A deep caring that left a warmth fluttering in her chest, and she supposes this is how everyone feels about that ‘one person’—that one friend who would be right next to you every time that you did something incredibly stupid like kill a man or marry your high school sweetheart in a courtroom. 

Quinn had disapproved of their engagement in the beginning. Granted, Rachel assumed that it may have been because she thought that she would end up with the star of Lima football, but then, she slowly began to realize that it was a lot more than that. Quinn wanted Rachel to be happy—totally and completely happy and she feared that dragging a piece of her past into her New York future would taint that. Quinn had selflessly thrown their relationship aside to try to stop Rachel from hurting herself, or at least that’s how she viewed it. Yet that night, when she ran after her in the hallway and gave her a struggled blessing, Rachel could tell it was more than that. It was more than just worriment or jealousy, or even obsessiveness. 

No, Rachel recognized that look in Quinn’s eyes when her lips puckered and asked if she was singing that song for Finn and only for Finn. She just can’t quite put her finger on it. 

“Rachel, come on. It’s now or never. We’re going to lose our spot!” Finn nags, glancing at the watch upon his wrist. Rachel gnaws on her bottom lip, fumbling with the phone in her hand as she stares at Quinn’s text: On my way! She’s coming, in fact, she is probably nearly there already. She is coming, despite having to go home to retrieve her bridesmaid dress, despite clearly not approving of their relationship at all, despite everything, Quinn is coming.

Rachel glances around the room at the people who surround her, each watching her with a very baited breath as Finn taps his foot impatiently. Her fathers are sad, but she expected nearly as much as she is their only little girl and has brought them so much joy and laughter into their lives. Although she can’t really understand why one of her Dad’s is twitching like that, it’s like he is having some sort of seizure. Wrinkling her brow, she turns away as her eyes glance over Finn’s mother and Burt who send her a gentle smile of reassurance. She looks at Kurt who simply shrugs his shoulders and motions her forward, and Will Shuester who smiles affectionately at Rachel, waiting to see her decision. She can feel the tears burning in her eyes as she turns to face Santana, and boy does Santana look pissed. 

So pissed, in fact, that Rachel gulps hard at the sight of her with her arms crossed over her chest and her brow creased so tightly together that it could resist anything striking that target. Her foot is shaking, and Rachel can see her chewing on her tongue on the inside, trying so diligently to keep herself from saying anything rude in front of the adults. 

“Rachel!” Finn practically bellows, slapping his hand over the watch dramatically. Rachel curses inwardly, as one should never curse aloud and ruin the lady like appearance of a blushing bride. She glances back down at the phone as she shoots a quick “where are you?” text but her eyes never leave the three words before that. 

_On my way._

Quinn is coming for her. 

“We have to wait for Quinn!” Rachel demands, biting on her bottom lip to keep her tears at bay. Finn looks over his shoulder at the empty doorway and is reminded of just how abbreviated time is when the clock ticks idly by a few more seconds. Shaking his head in frustration, he approaches his disgruntled wife as he gently places his hands upon her shoulder. She smiles at him sadly, cradling the phone in her hand as the message she sent to Quinn still went unanswered. 

Finn Hudson is a good man—well, at least Rachel _thought_ he was. He has big, strong hands that know exactly how to hold her to keep her from falling apart. He has mahogany brown eyes and a gentle smile that reminds her that not everything is necessarily so bad. Sure, he might not be the smartest boy in the entire world, but he can sing well, and he loves Rachel—that was enough for her, wasn’t it? Did it really matter that Finn didn’t want them to spend forever in New York or that he wasn’t even concerned about applying to college? Did it matter if Finn wanted to work as a local mechanic or some other less ideal job if he loved her? For the longest time, Rachel thought so. But now he’s standing here, and he’s looking at her as if she is his entire world and she can’t help but think that she isn’t looking at him like that. 

“Sweetheart, there is no more waiting around. We have exactly two minutes until our spot is gone forever. Quinn will understand. It’s now or we’re not getting married,” Finn explains with a gentle upward turn of his smile. However, Rachel only shakes her head as she steps backwards out of the Quarterback’s strong touch. 

“I don’t like this ultimatum, Finn. This is marriage. This is the rest of our lives! You can’t force me into it because we’re pressed for time! You can’t ask me to choose between you and—” But he interrupts her, just like he always does and within seconds, Santana is on her feet and by Rachel’s side. Sure, she might look pissed, but Rachel is her friend too, and she wants to make damn sure that everybody knows it. 

“RACHEL. DO YOU WANT TO MARRY ME OR NOT? You’ve got sixty seconds to make up your mind!” Finn states agitated, staring at his watch. Rachel’s eyes dart around the room once more, looking for answer from the people who loved her the most. She needs some kind of sign, some kind of something to tell her what he right thing is to do. She glances down at her phone to find that Quinn still hasn’t answered, and her eyes quickly find Santana’s. The anger has all but dissipated from her face and her lips are moving, desperately trying to find the strength to say something. 

“THIRTY SECONDS!”

Everybody’s staring. 

Quinn still hasn’t texted her back.

Is that her own heart in her throat?

Could her dress be any tighter?

And God, is it just her or is it really _fucking hot_ in this room?

“FIFTEEN SECONDS!”

“ _ **No!”**_ It even surprises Rachel when the word forcefully comes out of her mouth strangled between a yell and a choking sob. Finn stumbles for a moment, the frustration fleeting from the lines upon his face to quickly become replaced with sadness and the utmost hurt. She can hear everyone gasp at her reaction, but it seems like it is coming from lightyears away. Instead, she is still staring at the unanswered text message from Quinn before her eyes meet Finn’s teary brown. She bites her bottom lip softly as she takes a step towards him with an outstretched hand, but he only steps away shaking his head, “It’s Quinn, I… I can’t. Not like this.” 

“You don’t want to marry me because of Quinn?!” That is when Rachel hears it: the final crack that breaks Finn Hudson’s heart forever. These cracks have slowly been chipping away after all these years: first from Quinn’s affair with Puck that left her pregnant with a half-Jewish baby instead of his own, was scarred by her relationships with Puck and Jesse, and then ultimately shattered here today, in front of their friends and family. Rachel studies his face for a long while—the way his nostrils flare, the way the tears burn in his eyes refusing to fall, and the harsh lines upon his face. He’s broken, and she’s the very one to blame. Suddenly, a bright and happy sound echoes across the room and frantically everyone searches for their phones before Mr. Schue smiles bashfully. 

“I’ll just…uh… I’ll take this outside,” He waves his phone towards them before he quickly darts out the door with a muffled hello. Rachel reaches her hand forward to softly graze Finn’s but is immediately met with harshness as he jerks away. 

“No, you don’t understand. It’s not because of Quinn. It’s because… nothing about this day is right, Finn, and you know that. We’ve rushed ourselves into this courthouse with all of our parents who are too nice to tell us that we’re being idiots. You’re freaking out about what time we have to be in there, you probably haven’t even prepared any vows or bought the rings. And the only thing… God, the only thing that I wanted after everything that she has done for me, and for you was Quinn. _Quinn_ is the only thing I wanted today to make this perfect and she’s not...” However, she does not get to finish because before she can, Finn is grabbing a chair and throwing it against the wall. He charges at Rachel but not before Santana swings her behind her back, shoving him backwards in the process and into the arms of Burt Hummel.

“No, Rachel, screw you! Screw _you!”_ He screams, shaking his finger at her, “all you needed for today to be perfect was me and I wasn’t enough! I’m not enough for you, Rachel. God, it all make sense now, of course it does! You brought her back from that stupid pink hair and Ryan Seacrest tattoo. You told me to buy her gardenias and a green ribbon because it matched her eyes. Her fucking eyes.” Finn stops, tossing his head back with a heartless laugh. He attempts to walk towards her again, but Santana’s arm around her waist tightens and she notices Burt dragging him towards the door. 

 

“You know, when I broke up with her, she didn’t even cry. That day at Sue’s sister’s funeral, I told her how much that speech meant to me about being tethered to someone. And we could see you out of my truck windshield and she never took her eyes off you. Not even for a second. And she asked if it was because of _you._ She didn’t cry, I’m not even sure that she felt anything. But the second that you tell her that I proposed, there she goes again— _Saint of the fucking year_ , trying to save you from ruining your life. And now we’re not getting married because she’s not here because Quinn is a---”

“ENOUGH!” Burt yells, standing between his stepson and the cowering Rachel. He grabs Finn by his collar and shoves him backward slightly, “Enough! Get the hell out of here and get your ass in the car, son! I know you’re hurt but Rachel, she…. She doesn’t deserve this.” Finn laughs, hanging his head as he walks towards the door, kicking the chairs away from him in the process. However, he stops at the door facing, slamming his fist against the wall before he turns around, the tears apparent as they fall down his cheeks. 

“You know, when she gets here, maybe you two should just get married. Clearly, you’re both _perfect_ for each other because you both like to ruin my life!” Finn snaps, and before anyone knows it, Santana is charging at him, her shoulders square behind her. Rachel can taste the blood in her mouth and she knows that she’s bit a clean hole through the inside of her jaw but it’s easier. It is easier than letting Finn Hudson see her fall apart because of him. 

“HUDSON!” Santana bellows and he turns to face her with disgust, “maybe she just fucking _will_ marry Quinn because Quinn loves her a whole hell of more than you ever did.” Then, suddenly, Finn’s hands are pushing Santana backwards before Burt can control him and Rachel can’t help but look away as the tears blind her. 

“I don’t fucking need Quinn’s little lesbian lapdog here to defend her! What? She’s got you eating her out too?” Santana slaps him, hard—so hard, in fact, that his head completely turns around sideways. Burt jerks the boy outside and Rachel can hear them stumbling down the hallway forcefully, but not before Santana yells after him. 

“Just so you know, I _offered!_ But it seems like Quinn is too in love with Rachel Berry to think about anybody else!” Santana screams and suddenly, everything and everyone just goes silent.

Rachel does not even know when or how, but suddenly, she’s falling backwards onto the sofa, tears pouring from her eyes. Quinn is in love with her? Quinn is in love with her? No, Santana must be wrong, the brunette shakes her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose to keep her tears at bay. Quinn Fabray just simply cannot love her, after all, she drew pornographic pictures of her in the girl’s room and called her Treasure Trails when they first met. They fought for the same boy. They’ve been with men. They have loved men. For God’s sake, Quinn even had a _child by a man._

No, Quinn can’t love her because Rachel would have _known._

She would have…

Oh God. 

_“I’m so sorry you’re sad, Quinn and maybe you’re not going to believe me because we were never really close but I’m sad not seeing you in the choir room. And we’ve all been through so much, we’re a family. And this year is our year to get it right.”_

But it wasn’t like that… was it? Quinn was sad, and she did not want her to be sad anymore. She wanted to fix her; she wanted to be the one who made her smile again. Maybe if she had paid more attention she would have noticed how her lips turned upward in the softest smile when she saw her. She should have noticed how Quinn’s hands trembled when she touched the cigarette as if it was going to break beneath her touch and noticed how her eyes followed her when she walked away. 

_“I wanted to thank you actually. […] For keeping me from doing something stupid that I would have regretted for the rest of my life.”_

_“We’re kind of friends, huh?”_

_“Kind of.”_

Quinn is the prettiest girl that she has ever known, but she is a lot more than that. Rachel swallows hard, as she wraps her arms around herself, rocking slowly as the tears spill down her cheeks. She can hear Santana approaching her, touching her but she cannot make the world stop spinning, madly around her. 

“Berry, shit. You weren’t supposed to find out like that. I’m—”

“Is it true?” Rachel whispers, looking up under from the brim of her tears and she watches Santana’s face falter, her eyes darting away. 

But Rachel doesn’t need her to answer. 

No, she doesn’t need Santana to tell her what she already _knows._

What she has always known.

_“You don’t belong here, Rachel, and you can’t hate me for sending you on your way.”_

_“I would hate the idea of bringing an anchor of my past into the bright lights of my future. Rachel, you have an amazing life ahead of you.”_

“Hey, I need you to listen to me right now,” Santana sighs, gently taking Rachel’s face in one of her hand, brushing the tears away from her with a gentle smile. Rachel shakes her head as the tears freely fall from her eyes, trying to recoil back into herself as much as possible. The Latina sits down next to the brunette, grabbing Rachel’s hand within her own, lacing their fingers. “She’s probably pulling up right now and holy fuck is she going to be relieved to see that you’re not Rachel Hudson.” Santana laughs but Rachel does not. No, she does not even smile because across the room, her eyes are fixed on Will Schuester, who leans against the door facing, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. 

“Mr. Schue, if this is about Finn, I’m really sorry. He didn’t even me time to explain!” Rachel hiccups in her own cries but Will does not say anything. Emma approaches him as she gently places her hand upon his forearm, but he shrugs her away with a groan. It is at this that Santana notices just how broken he looks, far more so than she ever remembered seeing him. Without saying a single word, he moves forward until he gently crouches in front of the two women, a hand finding it’s way onto both of her thighs. 

“This isn’t about Finn,” He sighs, looking between the two women and somehow, someway, Rachel just knows and the most heart wrenching sob escapes from within her. 

_“Okay, I’ve tried to reason with you. I’ve even tried to be nice about it, but I’m not going to watch you ruin your life by trying to marry Finn Hudson.”_

“There’s no straightforward way to say this but you… you both need to know. There was an accident a couple of miles from here….” He pauses, and Santana’s hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder in reassurance, but Rachel has already tuned out. 

No.

This _can not_ be happening. 

“A car completely blew through a stop sign, possibly texting and driving. I don’t know. But the car was hit square on.” Will explains, and Rachel stands onto her feet quickly, the lump thick in the back of her throat. She is hanging onto his words as if they are the last ones that she will ever hear, and in a weird way, she’s hoping that they are. 

“It…it was Quinn. Quinn was hit on the way here. It’s really bad…” But, Rachel can’t hear him anymore. No, all she can hear is the sound of how Quinn’s voice harmonizes with hers; all she can hear is the sound of her laughter at something extremely inappropriate; all she can hear is the way that Quinn says her name like it’s so effortless. 

All she can hear is how Quinn begged her not to marry Finn; telling her that she was so much more than Lima, Ohio and trying her hardest to provide the best life for her that she could. How could she miss all those signs?

_“When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn, right?”_

Goddamn it, Rachel cries, this is their year to get it _right!_

So… why is it all going so wrong?

 

_“When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn, right?”_  
_“When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn, right?”_  
_“When you were singing that song, you were singing it to Finn and only Finn, right?”_


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I've missed this fandom so much! Feedback is always appreciated. :)

**Chapter Two**

Susan Pease Badnitt once wrote: "Traumatic events, by definition, overwhelm our ability to cope. When the mind becomes flooded with emotion, a circuit breaker is thrown that allows us to survive the experience intact, that is, without becoming psychotic or frying out one of the brain centers. The cost of this blown circuit is emotion frozen within the body. In other words, we often unconsciously stop feeling our trauma partway into it, like a movie that is still going after the sound has been turned off. […]"

She remembers asking her Dad about what happened when she was a little girl and he received the phone call telling him that her Grammie was being rushed to the hospital. Grammie died a few hours after he received that phone call and Leroy was left to explain to a six-year-old why her grandmother would not be coming over for dinner on Friday. It had been a hit and run accident at a local red light—a place that she had been thousands of times. She never understood it when her father told her that he didn't feel anything for a long time. She never understood how he couldn't cry because his heart hurt, and as far as six-year-old Rachel Berry was concerned, that was the worst kind of hurt. She never understood why Daddy Hiram watched over him, arms outstretched, waiting for the moment that he broke down, like how a mother nervously watches her child take their first steps.

She never understood how you could be dead, but still alive.

Until now.

Until she is sitting in a ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chair in Lima Memorial hospital, watching countless doctors, nurses, and patients rush by her. Lima Memorial is a Trauma Two hospital, which Rachel has learned from the pamphlet next to her, means that they have access to twenty-four/seven surgeons and can provide definitive care for all injured patients. She cannot help but wonder if they will all make it—like the man who was rushed through the doors with a gunshot wound to his chest after a carjacking gone wrong, or the woman who was in a horrible accident while out hiking with her friends. She can hear the doctors around her shouting orders, running around, and the cries of people in pain. But she remains quiet…calm… stoic—the opposite of everything that she has came to know about herself.

Her thumb shakily traces the plastic lid of her coffee that tastes like absolute trash. Hospital coffee is always burnt, she is beginning to realize, but it is just enough to keep her going when she feels like she can't take anymore. Her eyes are burning but she is afraid to blink, afraid to look away from those double doors that determine whether people live or die. Her body aches but she dares to not move from her position. No, she is going to be _right_ here when the doctors finally come out and tell her the news that she has been waiting for.

Rachel has finally stopped paying attention to the fact that Santana's hand is rested precariously on the inside of her thigh. If someone would have told her years ago that Santana Lopez, one of Sue Sylvester's chosen ones, would be holding onto her as if it was dear life, she would have definitely laughed in their faces. Yet, here they are with Santana holding onto her as if she is the one thing that is keeping her from falling apart and Rachel does not want to experience the coldness of the world that exists on the other side of Santana's hand.

She allows herself to look away from the double doors to study Santana's face for just a moment. She makes a mental note of the puffiness of Santana's eyes, how they are blood shot and ridden with tears that she does not allow to fall. She notices the lines upon her face that tells a story of where the Latina has been and where she is going. She sees how Santana's lips quiver, but she never allows herself to cry—no, not over something like this, not until she absolutely must. Santana quietly looks over towards her and she forces her lips to turn in an upward smile, but Rachel knows that it is not genuine. Gently, Santana's hand on the inside of her thigh gives the world's most comforting squeeze, and without knowing why, Rachel allows her hand to sit quietly on top of the Latina's.

On the other side of Rachel, Kurt Hummel nervously bounces the foot of his crossed leg. He is ridden with exhaustion nearly as much as the girls and he keep rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He _hates_ hospitals! Nothing good ever comes out of them, he groans, cracking his neck slightly, they had taken his mother and nearly took his father as well. He studies Rachel who stares blankly into nothing and his heart twists inside of his throat at the mere sight of her. This certainly is not how this day was supposed to turn out—right now, she was supposed to be the wife of his stepbrother, or something stupid like that. To say that he supported the wedding would certainly be a stretch—sure, he wanted his brother to be happy, but if he had to be entirely honest, he was not convinced that Rachel Berry is the happiness that he so desperately is searching for. Rachel had been his number one since day one and he did not want to see anyone come in the way of that. But he certainly has never seen her in this kind of pain before, not even when she couldn't hit those notes _just_ right. He's never seen Rachel just not be…well, _Rachel_. Without thinking about it, he cautiously wraps his arm around her back, his hand squeezing her shoulder, but she does not even blink at the contact.

Will Schuester is standing across the room from his three kids, his foot propped up against the wall to support his weight as his arms are crossed across his chest. He cannot help but look at all three of these kids: all three so entirely different from one another and yet, somehow, each keeping the other up. The back of his throat is on fire from the sobbing that came from him once he was alone in the men's restroom. This should have never happened. He should have never been the one who received that phone call asking if he knew one Ms. Quinn Fabray, and getting specifics of the accident. He should have never forgotten how to breathe and been haunted by his last conversation with Quinn when he stared into the eyes of Rachel Berry and told her exactly why her… _her_ _Quinn_ had not showed up for her wedding.

"Rachel." It's Santana who finally breaks the silence between the friends and Kurt is honestly so relived that the phantom, eerily quiet can no longer haunt them. Rachel's lips are moving softly, almost unnoticeable truly, but no sound ever escapes her, and Santana can't help but wonder if it ever truly can. Her fingers wrap tighter around her leg and she can feel Rachel's fingers slowly begin to intertwine with her own. Santana bites her bottom lip harshly, looking up at Mr. Schue who only stares back at her with the same kind of sadness they all are experiencing.

"Hey, it's… it's going to be okay." Santana whispers with a squeeze and Rachel's deep brown eyes finally move from the door to find the Latina's own and that is when Santana sees it. She can see the break written within those swirls and she swears that she can almost watch every moment the two of them experience flash in front of her eyes.

"And I know what you're going to say. You are going to tell me that I could not possibly know that. You are going to tell me that just because my father is a Trauma surgeon here does not privy me to the knowledge of what is going on. And you're right. I…I _don't_ know if everything is going to be okay," Santana swallows, her voice shaking as she watches the tears fill in Rachel's eyes once more. She ducks her head as she squeezes her own eyes shut before she inhales another shaky breath to continue.

"But I do _know_ Quinn. I have known her for most of our lives and I know that this isn't how she is going to go out. This isn't where her song ends, and this is not the last page of her book. I _know_ Quinn and I know that she was strong enough to have a baby at _sixteen_ , with no support hardly from any of her friends, or Finn and Puck. I know that she was strong enough to forgive you for telling everyone about her," Santana states and she watches the hurt flicker in Rachel's eyes before she squeezes her leg in reassurance and forces a small smile, "and I know that she was strong enough to forgive you for all of that and love you regardless. She wants you to be happy, Berry. For some God forsaken reason that even I don't understand, you're the one that she always comes back to. So, if nothing else, everything is going to be _okay_ , even if it isn't, because she wouldn't want to ruin your happiness." A few tears spill from Rachel's eyes as she returns her attention back to the door and Santana swears that she can hear the hiccup of a cry in the back of the brunette's throat.

"I don't know how I got here," Rachel finally croaks out and Santana swears that she has never heard her voice so raspy in her entire life. The brunette shakes her head softly, biting her bottom lip as she looks around at the people who surround her…the people who love her unconditionally. Slowly, she pushes Santana's hand from her leg as she forces herself to stand, one hand forcefully going through her hair as she begins to pace.

"One second, I'm at the courthouse and I'm about to get married. I'm about to _get married_ to the boy that I have loved for my entire high school career. I'm seconds away, really and then suddenly, I get a text a-a-and…. a-a-and Mr. Schue gets a phone call. Next thing I know, I'm _here_ on my wedding night and I can't… I can't _feel_ anything, and I don't know what's going on. I don't even know if she's…" Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose as a cry escapes from within her, but nobody dares to move towards her, "this _can't_ be happening right now. This is our Senior Year. This is our year to **get it right**. She got into Yale and now she's…" The next thing Rachel knows, Santana's arms are around her, pulling her tight into her but she can't.

She can't _do this_.

Her mind is racing, spinning in circles really. Every time that she closes her eyes, she can see those golden strands and the way that those emerald eyes sparkled against the lights that night. All she can see is the smile on her face when she told her about getting into Yale, and all the diverse ways that she pulled at her heart strings when she told her that she just _couldn't_ marry Finn. All she can see is all those signs that she missed that they had simply be inevitable, even when slushies were being poured into her face and the blonde was left crying in the girl's bathroom. They had been _friends_ , but they were also _a lot more than that_.

All she can hear is Quinn's voice harmonizing in her ears when they sang I Feel Pretty/Unpretty. All she can hear is how beautiful her name sound coming from her lips each time that she chose to not call her by one of those ridiculous names. All she can hear is the way that her voice shook when she told her that she didn't belong here, and she couldn't hate her for sending her on her way. All she could hear was the heartbreak in her voice when she asked if she had been singing that song to Finn and only to Finn, right?

All she can feel is how perfect Quinn's face felt in her hands that night in which she wiped those tears from her cheek in the girl's bathroom. She can feel the blonde's breath on her face as she told her that she wanted to thank her for not letting her make one of the biggest mistakes of her whole life. All she can feel is the way that Quinn trembled beneath her when she hugged her after Regionals.

She is everywhere and nowhere all the same time. She is in every single sense that Rachel Berry can muster. She's _overwhelming_ and yet she's nowhere to be seen at the same time.

Everything is _Quinn_ and it _**hurts**_.

Rachel _can't_ breathe like this. She can't _think_ —her mind is racing, spinning in circles, flooded of images and realities that are too harsh to even consider. Her mouth is cry and the tears are falling, and she's numb except for the part of her that feels like it's twisted up and aching. Santana's hands are moving up her back and she is whispering in her ear and it's just too much. It's _too_ much. Stumbling, she pushes herself out of Santana's arms, shaking her head as the tears burn within her eyes and all she can see is white.

"S-stop. Stop. Just stop!" Rachel practically bellows, thrusting her hands forward to gesture the three to stay away. Santana shakes her head with an arched eyebrow, but Rachel stands firm, biting her bottom lip until it bleeds and the most heart wrenching sob escapes from within her, "don't you get it? This is _my_ fault. It's… it's all my fault."

"Oh, Rachel, honey, no," It's Kurt. At least, she thinks that it might be Kurt because honestly, she cannot really hear anything that is not the racing of her own heart inside of head. Her hands are trembling as she takes another step backward, Santana's eyes never quite leaving her own and she wonders if this is what it is like to have a _true_ breakdown. The nausea makes the bile rise in her throat and God, her mouth is so _dry_.

"N-No. No. No. Don't do that. Don't do… _that_ ," Rachel gestures between the two of them with a hiccup, "don't do that thing where you pity me and feel sorry for me. I'm not… I'm not a _doll_ or a broken plaything. This…this is all my fault. _My fault_!" She slaps her hand against her chest as a cry escapes from her bruised lips and she notices Santana share a glance with Mr. Schue, but she can't bring herself to care about the scene that is unfolding with her.

" _Quinn_ is… she's… it was _my_ text. She was answering _me_! It was… it was my s-s-stupid wedding that she was…" She's crying and God, she can't stop and all she wants to do is **stop** , "she didn't even tell me. She told you!" She points at Santana with a sharp break in her voice, "but she never…. she never _told me_. After _everything_ we've been through…. After _Shelby_ and _Finn_ , she never _told_ _ **me**_ _._ She let me…. She let me _do this_ and she never…." Her voice is breaking, hoarser and hoarser with every cry. "And now she's… she's _laying_ in there and she's going to… and it's all my fault. I did this to her. _I_ did _this,_ and she doesn't know that I… _Santana_." She is crumbling and before she knows it, Santana's arms are around her so tightly, as if to put her all back together again. She holds her just like Quinn has so many times before, but this time it's different in the saddest of ways.

It's Santana's hands that moving gently across her back and it's just enough to keep her fixated in the reality that is her world. She and Santana are tethered together in the world's saddest stories of could have been, should have been's. They are connected through the love of Quinn Fabray and Rachel just wants to keep her from slipping from her grasp. Her fingers grasp tightly at Santana's shirt, wrinkling the fabric beneath her as she cries so sadly. She knows the minutes that pass by must be some of the longest of her life as her body trembles against Santana's and she feels the familiar tremble against her. She knows that Kurt's hand is on the back of her head, placing a gentle kiss upon her head, but she just cannot stop. She needs Quinn, but right now, Santana's a pretty good makeshift.

"Rach, are you okay?" A voice calls out and instantly, Rachel can feel Santana tense against their embrace. She steps aside for a moment, looking across the room to find Finn Hudson in a pair of baggy jeans and a red sweatshirt over him. He's alone, and his face is etched with hurt and worry just like the rest of them. She had not even thought to call him when she got the news—thirty minutes prior, she had planned on him being her husband, and when the worst thing imaginable happens, he is the last person on her mind.

"What in the _hell_ do you think you are doing here?" Santana snaps bitterly, her eyes squinting towards him in disgust and the poison in her voice could not be mistaken for anything else. Finn shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he looks down at the floor, but not before his eyes fixate upon Rachel's once more.

"I called him," Kurt states with a gentle wave of his hand and Rachel can't bring herself to look at the quarterback across from her. Not because she is saddened, but because the guilt nearly eats her up inside, along with the flashes of anger that have her tongue twisting in knots.

"You _can't_ be serious!" Santana practically bellows and something inside of Rachel just seems to snap entirely. She watches as Kurt's hand finds it's way to the crook of Santana's arm and he's touching her so delicately that it is almost as if she is going to break beneath him.

"I can be serious and I am. Did you just happen to forget that he loved her too? Did you just so happen to block that whole love triangle between them and Rachel? Did you forget that he thought he was the father of Beth for so long? They were important to each other too," Kurt quips, staring at Santana's whose face is unrelenting in it's expression of pure frustration. "I called him because he's my _brother_ and because regardless of whatever you think, Quinn needs all the people that she can get right now. With enough of us here, a miracle is bound to happen." Santana's jaw is squaring, and Rachel just knows that she is going to slap him, however, she doesn't. Instead, she turns her attention to the brunette as she places her hand onto her shoulder before she glares back at Finn.

"Rachel, if you want to blame someone for what happened, blame him. It's all _his_ fault." Santana spits out and Finn steps towards her with the utmost confusion written on his face.

"Excuse me? I wasn't driving the truck!" Finn argues back, but Santana is certainly having none of it. Without Rachel ever saying a word, the Latina is sliding in between the two lovers, or ex-lovers, or whatever, she is not entirely sure right now. Her head is turned just sideways so that her raven black hair falls across her face just slightly and Rachel wonders if she knows how beautiful she really is when she's protective like this.

"No, but you might have as well been! I can't believe that you would do something like this. All you have ever done is play Quinn—from the moment that you first found out about her sleeping with Puck, you've strung her along like this all because you wanted to be with Rachel. And she thought you were her friend, that's why she told you. She told you because she cared about you, Finn, and what did you do? You proposed because you were scared that she'd tell her. And wow, you didn't even _tell_ Rachel the real reason, did you?" Santana snaps and Finn's face falls, looking between Rachel and Santana with a hard gulp. Something inside of Rachel catches on fire and when she looks at Finn, she wonders if she ever really knew him at all.

"You…. You _knew_?" Rachel whispers and Finn shrugs his shoulders, kicking his shoe against the dirty tile floor. There's that spinning thing again that she hates, and she closes her eyes tightly, forcing them away as she looks upward.

"You've always tried to destroy her, Finn. Ruin her happiness. So, I _really_ hope you're happy with what you've done!" She can hear Santana's voice ripping into the quarterback, but all she can focus on is the bile that is rising in her throat. Quinn had found the strength to tell not only Santana, but Rachel's very own boyfriend at the time. She had told him the truth and he turned his back on her and proposed anyway. All this time, Rachel had no idea or even if she did, she could not believe it.

"You can make me out to be an ass all you want, Santana but I wasn't the one she was texting!" Finn's voice is booming, and Rachel can barely stand on her two legs now. The world is spinning faster, faster, _faster_ , and God, she just wants off this ride now.

" _You're a very pretty girl, Quinn. Prettiest girl I've ever met. But you're a lot more than that"_

"No, but I…I was." Rachel stumbles out, her knees shaking beneath her. Suddenly, all eyes are on her and everybody is looking at her with such pity in their eyes that she nearly chokes upon it. She's shaking her head as they all reach out for her, but she can't do it. She can't do _any_ of this anymore without Quinn.

"Rachel…."

" _Well, you, lady, are perfect the way you are. Don't change your big Jewish nose, and whatever you do, don't get a bob because you don't have the jawline to support that hairstyle. […] Hey, do you remember when we used to hate each other?"_

" _I want to support you,_ _ **Rachel**_ _."_

" _Finn has asked me to marry him"_

" _What did you say?"_

" _I said I needed to think about it."_

" _Well, you_ _ **can't**_ _."_

" _Rachel, you have an_ _ **amazing**_ _life ahead of you!"_

" _If you really want to be happy, you're going to have to say goodbye."_

" _When you were singing that song, you were singing to Finn and_ _ **only**_ _to Finn, right?"_

"I'm looking for the immediate family of Quinn Fabray," It is a different voice that calls Rachel out of the spinning thoughts that consume her. The group of teens turn to find a doctor in scrubs and a white lab coat standing before them, a rather large clipboard in his hands. There's blood on his scrubs and Rachel honestly thinks that she is going to throw up. Is it Quinn's? Her eyes are stumbling around to find someone who could say something and finally, it's Santana who steps next to her.

"Owen," Santana whispers and the doctor looks down at her with a sigh. Rachel watches the two of them interact and internally, she realizes that there are not many people here that Santana does not know since her father works here. His face falls slightly, the wrinkles apparent upon his face and Rachel's heart is in her throat.

"Santana, you know that I can't…"

"I'm her _sister_ ," Santana states and she grabs Rachel's hand, intertwining their fingers around one another, showing him their embrace, "and this is her _girlfriend_." The word is heavy on Santana's lips as she squeezes Rachel's fingers but the only thing the brunette can hear is the hammering of her own heart at the mere thought of being Quinn's girlfriend. After everything they have been through, the thought that Quinn Fabray could still love her more than anyone leaves her breathless. She's shaking her head as the tears are blinding her and before she knows it, her mouth is opening, and words are tumbling out—words that she could never take back.

" _Please_. You… you don't understand… I…I _**love**_ her." She hears Santana gasp at the admission and Finn's disgruntled 'what' echoing in the background, but honestly the only thing that she can truly notice is just how calm everything is inside of her at the statement. It had come out so easily, as if it was ridiculous that anything else could have ever been the truth. She looks at Santana with tears in her eyes as the Latina squeezes her hand in reassurance, a small smile playing upon her lips. Owen looks between the two women before town at his chart, flipping a page and then he sighs deeply.

"Okay, I'm going to need you both to come with me. Just… don't touch anything," Owen instructs, pointing his finger at Santana before he turns on his heels and pushes open the door. He waits for them inside the door, holding it open as Santana gives Rachel another reassuring squeeze. There's a moment between them—albeit, brief, in which Rachel searches for the answers in Santana's eyes and she's meet with an all too familiar love. The Latina nods her head as she looks ahead and Rachel takes a deep breath.

_It's now or never._

And suddenly, without warning, Rachel takes the first step.


End file.
